“Most of what we do in our worldly life is geared toward our staying dry, looking good, not going under. But in baptism, in lakes and rain and tanks and fonts, you agree to do something that’s a little sloppy because at the same time it’s also holy, and absurd. It’s about surrender, giving in to all those things we can’t control; it’s a willingness to let go of balance and decorum and get drenched.”
~ Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith

We began our worship yesterday with these words. We laughed. It is vey good now and then to begin worship with laughter. We do it so seldom. We laughed because most us, the adults anyway, knew the truth of these words. Like most humans who can be open to knowing that the joke-finger is pointed in their direction, we joined forces in common laughter and a certain humility. Yes, each of us had spent considerable energy trying to ‘stay dry’ in life.

But baptism was the central movement of our worship together. We were there to celebrate one of our little ones whose birth we had anticipated and then celebrated, whose personality we have been blessed to watch evolve. We have walked with her parents through these early months of her life and stand looking forward to watching her as she becomes. As we gathered to lay hands on her and to bless her with water combined from many sources, we all knew we were engaged in something holy and perhaps absurd. After all, who can understand it really? And yet, as humans, we try to cobble together the words that tell her and her parents that we are with them in this journey. Most importantly we all affirm once again that we believe the Holy travels with us. Even when we do not know it or understand what it means. Even when we don’t feel as if we are worthy, or together enough, or even much of a ‘believer.’ Even when we don’t get it or understand what it all might means. Even when our primary aim is to stay dry.

I know that throughout my life I have certainly spent a considerable amount of time and energy trying to stay dry and look good. I have probably also spent even more effort trying not to go under, not to send myself spiraling into a hole I feared I’d never crawl out of. I’ve twisted my self into shapes and knots only a contortionist should be able to do in order to keep control. Any of this sound familiar to you?

And yet, as Anne Lamott reminds us, this life we have been given is really mostly about surrender. The more we surrender to the surprises and unknowns, the more we allow ourselves to free fall into the Mystery that holds us. It is the dress rehearsal for the ultimate surrender we each reach at life’s end. A daily practice of surrender can bring more than any of us could ever imagine and promises to keep our daily walk spicy and even exciting.

Baptism means many things to many people. But as I see it, this act we in the Christian household call a sacrament, is something visible to us of something that dwells within, whose ingredients are pure grace. Its action binds strangers and friends, guests and enemies, young and old, those who agree and those who argue, into a common, messy life together using that element of which we are all made and through which we are all sustained: water. Swimming through it all is the Creator whose image is imprinted on each of us.

Yesterday as we greeted this one so new to this messy, wonderful world, we did so with water and hope and love. “Come on in! The water is fine!”, we said.

And so it is. And so it is.